


the people bowed and prayed (to the neon god they made)

by kaeda



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, Hints of widomauk but this is gen, Memories, Old Friends, Resurrection, Reunions, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeda/pseuds/kaeda
Summary: Lucien finds more than he bargained for in the ruined city of Aeor. Spoilers for campaign 2, episode 111.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 9
Kudos: 121





	the people bowed and prayed (to the neon god they made)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the rest of you enjoy this self-indulgence as much as I did. This will be almost definitely jossed after episode 112 airs, but I had fun writing it all the same.

Lucien had thought that it was all going to be _so_ easy.

There was no one to stop them, this time. The Cerberus Assembly woman wasn’t there to interfere. The city still called to him, walking through his dreams, promising power and ascension and a pathway to godhood.

“It has to be here,” he bemoaned at Cree, frustrated as they continued to sift through the rubble that they suspected was the ruined city of Aeor. “Who else could have found it?”

Cree looked consternated. “The entire continent has been sending expeditions here,” she said. “The Empire. The Kryn.”

“None of them have had my dreams,” Lucien snarled. “If they try to get in our way, they’ll regret it.” Around him, the other Tombtakers continued to excavate, but Lucien could already tell they would find nothing. He could feel it in his gut, like a stone.

“Cast another Locate Object,” he instructed Cree. She sighed but complied.

“Not within a thousand feet,” she repeated. “I think we’re looking in the wrong spot.”

“This can’t be the wrong spot,” Lucien said. “I _dreamt_ this.”

“Then someone got here first,” Cree suggested.

Lucien was about to respond when the scout they’d sent around came running back, out of breath and panting for air. “A camp!” she choked out as she stumbled to a stop in front of them, bracing her hands on her knees. “There’s an enemy camp. Empire, looks like.”

“Empire?!” Cree repeated, throwing a knowing look in Lucien’s direction. She’d been right, as usual. “How many of them? Armor, weapons?”

“Not many,” the scout said, catching her breath, “a small party. Maybe eight or nine of them, various races. All armed with assorted weaponry; they look like hired mercenaries with two human wizards.”

“The Cerberus Assembly,” Lucien murmured. This was going to be a problem. “We’ll have to take care of them, _now_.”

Cree nodded. “I’ll put a team together. We can attack at dusk.” She began to bark orders at the rest of the Tombtakers, leaving Lucien frowning in the direction the scout had come from. It seemed odd that Empire scouts would arrive in Eiselcross just as he was so close to his goal. 

As Cree made her plans, Lucien decided to do some reconnaissance of his own. “Where was the camp?” he asked the scout. She provided him with clear directions, gesturing back the way she’d come. They were about fifteen minutes away on foot, camped amid the ruins of a large palace complex. She didn’t think they’d spotted her, but she’d headed back the moment she’d laid eyes on them and gathered the critical information.

Lucien dug in his bag for his Cloak of Elvenkind and swirled it around his shoulders before ducking down amongst the ruins. He wanted to see these Empire mages for himself, maybe get an idea about if they’d been the ones to procure the item he sought. He made an executive decision – what was the point in being a leader if he wasn’t going to occasionally make those? – and stealthily crept in the direction the scout had indicated, determined to find out more about this Empire team before he figured out what to do with them. They could attack if needed, but perhaps this could be settled with a little more…finesse.

He walked for over ten minutes in the direction the scout had indicated, pleased to see that her instructions had been spot on as he noticed the landmarks she had mentioned. As he neared the fifteen-minute mark, he finally drew close enough to hear them from several buildings away, long before he could see them. At first it was just the murmur of voices, clearly not trying to hide their presence, but as he crept closer, the words became far clearer.

“She totally betrayed us! No way are we letting her anywhere _near_ any of these artifacts!” said a voice that was breathtakingly familiar.

“Do you think she’d be safer in our tower, though?” a fine-accented male voice broke in – Lucien didn’t know that one, although something in its timbre was familiar.

“No way! Caleb made that tower for _us_ , no betraying wizards allowed,” another familiar voice insisted. Then, she backtracked with, “no betraying wizards except Essek, I mean.”

“I still cannot cast the tower today,” another heartbreakingly familiar voice said. “But tomorrow, we can put her in there. Tonight, we just have the dome. She will have to remain manacled and watched.”

Ever since waking up in a lonely grave, Lucien had dreamed of this day. He was riveted in his tracks for one long moment, letting the voices wash over him. In that interval, there were no decisions to make and no impossible tasks to accomplish.

He peered around the corner of a building, and their camp was suddenly in view. As he had thought, it was _them_. He was stunned at the depth of feeling that seeing those familiar faces caused within him. The Mighty Nein (and some new faces) were gathered around a roaring fire, eating a meal, dressed in fine winter clothes and looking healthy as ever. He drank in the vision of them, hardly believing them to be in front of him. 

There was Jester, laughing just like she had when he’d read her fortune. Fjord, speaking to a man with pink hair as the other man poured tea for him. Yasha – _Yasha_ – leaning against Beauregard, holding her hand as they both ate something off of a shared plate. And _Caleb_ , sandwiched between a mischievous-looking halfling woman and Beau, looking as good as Mollymauk had always thought he had the potential to look if he’d actually showered. Lucien was pleased to note that Caleb seemed to have discovered bathing, if the shininess of his red hair was any indication. Other than the halfling woman, the only other unfamiliar member of their party was still quite familiar to Lucien – the figure of Vess DeRogna, unconscious and manacled, wrapped in furs to keep her warm and lying on a pallet near the fire, clearly the ‘she’ they’d been debating about earlier. 

Of the Nein he’d traveled with, only Nott was missing, and he glanced behind himself carefully, making sure she hadn’t sneakily flanked him in typical rogue style. There was no sign of a small goblin woman anywhere. 

Lucien knew immediately – there was no way he would be able to attack the Mighty Nein. If they stood between him and his objective, he was going to have to figure out a way to solve the problem without hurting them.

He backed up, intending to head back to the Tombtakers and issue new orders. As he went to make his retreat, his foot knocked against a piece of rubble, and to his dismay, directly adjacent to the stone he’d kicked lay a pile of fallen stones that crumbled into dust immediately, echoing throughout the empty ruins. Lucien froze.

“What was that?” an unfamiliar low drawl asked, barely loud enough to be heard by Lucien.

He darted his eyes around and began to run for the far corner of the building, hoping he could reach it and hide before the Nein came looking. Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on Beauregard being insanely fast, and she rounded the bend blocking him from view of the Nein’s camp and spotted him before he made it to cover.

Their eyes met over the ruins.

“MOLLY?!” she yelled. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Lucien froze again like a deer in headlights. They gawked at each other as a cold breeze blew through the ruined street, swirling Lucien’s useless cloak around him. The time it took for them to stare each other down gave the rest of the Nein time to catch up to Beau, and unsurprisingly, Jester ran towards him with absolutely no regard for her safety, even as the others tried to get her to stop. Before Lucien could process what was happening, he had an armful of blue tiefling as Jester launched herself at him in a joyous hug.

“Molly! We missed you SO much!” she said.

“Jester. That’s not Molly,” Beau said, her voice tight. “We _know_ that’s not Molly.”

Almost of their own accord, Lucien’s arms went around Jester and hugged her back. “I missed you, too,” he said, and the accent in the words that left his mouth was not his own.

She pulled away from him, a smile on her face. “We’re having dinner. You HAVE to join us. Caduceus cooks the best meals. Unfortunately, Caleb can’t make the tower today, but if he did you could also have _his_ food. Maybe if you stay with us you can see it tomorrow!”

Lucien gaped at her, a bit overwhelmed.

“Jester,” Beau said again, creeping closer. “That’s not Molly.” Behind her, Fjord had a sword in his hand, a different one than the falchion that Lucien remembered. The halfling woman, wearing a pair of earmuffs with pink antlers, pointed a crossbow at him; the stance was eerily familiar. Caleb hung back, but Lucien could feel his eyes on him, piercing blue.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Jester released him just in time for Yasha to sweep him up into a bear hug so all-encompassing that Lucien’s feet left the ground. “I _missed_ you,” she whispered into his hair. “I don’t even care that you’re not Molly.” As he embraced her back, he could feel the wetness of tears on his face, and he swiped at his own cheek in surprise when it came back wet. He was _crying_.

“Yasha,” he murmured.

“Okay, what the _fuck_ is going on here,” Beau demanded as Yasha put him back down and stepped away from him.

“Molly’s back and he’s going to have dinner with us,” said Jester as though everything was very simple.

“I’m not Molly,” said Lucien, who had been entertaining the idea of pretending to be Molly to get information until the words left his mouth. What was _happening_ to him? “I’m Lucien.”

“You’re also crying,” Jester said kindly, reaching over and wiping more wetness from his cheek. “That will freeze and be very uncomfortable. You should come sit by our fire.”

Lucien was led back to their camp, where Jester and Yasha sat him down and the man with pink hair handed him a plate laden with some sort of vegetable ensemble. Where he’d even found vegetables in the frozen north, Lucien had no idea. “Would you like some tea?” the man asked, a friendly smile on his face.

“Sure,” Lucien replied, unhappy at the waver in his voice. It had been so long since he’d expected kindness from strangers.

As the man with pink hair poured him a cup, he looked Lucien over. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to meet you,” he said. “I’m glad I did, even if I wish it was in better circumstances. I’m Caduceus Clay.”

“My name is Lucien,” said Lucien numbly, taking the cup of tea and wrapping his palms around it as he balanced the plate of food on his knees. The warmth around him felt like it was threatening to engulf him, and he had a feeling it wasn’t even an effect of the roaring fire.

Beauregard seemed to have lost some of her earlier belligerence, although she still peered at him suspiciously as he took a sip of the tea. “You’re not even trying to ingratiate yourself with us,” she said. “You know us. But you say you’re Lucien.”

“He has Mollymauk’s memories,” said Caleb, his voice filled with the same numbness that Lucien had felt since he’d spotted their camp. “He’s not Mollymauk, but he knows us.” He turned to look at Lucien, not quite making eye contact. “Right?”

Lucien nodded once.

“How does that work?” Beauregard asked, taking a bite from a piece of meat on her shared plate with Yasha. “Does it feel like you have someone else’s memories?”

Lucien took a moment to ponder how to respond. “It feels like a dream,” he said slowly. “I remember everything that happened as if it happened to me, but the thoughts, the feelings I had then…weren’t my own. They were me without context.”

Jester had been digging in her bag of holding while they spoke, and she at last found what she was looking for, pulling something from it and turning to face Lucien. The moment he put his cup of tea down, she pressed a folded piece of colorful fabric into his palms. “We saved your coat,” she said, her eyes bright.

Lucien held the coat in shaking hands, the same coat he had buried after emerging from the earth himself once more. They had clearly Prestidigitated it clean and cast Mending; the colorful patchwork was as good as new, and the holes from his various dying wounds no longer littered the fabric.

“I’m not Mollymauk,” he said again, furious at the way his voice shook as badly as his hands.

“You’re definitely not,” Yasha said with a hint of a smile. “Molly wouldn’t have been caught dead in those clothes.” The joke, intended or not, broke the tension between the rest of the group and spurred awkward laughter.

“Are you going to introduce me to your other new companion?” Lucien asked, gesturing at the halfling. Nobody had mentioned DeRogna, and he was certainly not going to be the one to bring up that awkward situation, even as the mage remained unconscious by the fire.

The halfling laughed. “You don’t recognize me, Molly?” she asked in a very familiar voice.

Lucien stared at her, disbelieving. “Nott?”

“Veth, now,” she said, looking very pleased with herself. “It’s a long story. Maybe I’ll even get to share it with you.”

“I’d like to hear it someday,” Lucien said, intending it to be a line and being irritated when it came out plaintively earnest instead.

“Mollymauk,” said Jester again, still seated by his side. She’d been digging in her bag of holding once more, and this time she emerged holding a stack of cards, familiar like an old friend. Lucien took them from her wordlessly, brushing his thumb against the worn edges and looking at the art that he remembered his hands creating. 

“My cards,” he whispered.

“And a few of mine!” Jester said brightly. “I’ve been taking good care of them, for you. If you want them back.”

Lucien flipped through the deck. Most he remembered vividly, although as Jester had mentioned, there were a few drawn with a different hand, the art both sillier and more polished than Mollymauk’s own. He hadn’t tried to sit down and draw anything since he’d emerged from the earth, but he suddenly had a premonition that he would find himself with a talent he’d never previously had, developed during those years as Molly.

“You’ve made these your own,” he said quietly, handing the cards back. “I can’t keep them.” It almost felt a bit like he was also handing her his heart.

Slowly, around him, his old friends began to relax, although there was still a tense edge to most of them that told Lucien that they wouldn’t hesitate to act against him if necessary. Despite that tension, Nott began to tease Fjord about something that had happened earlier, and the conversation devolved into playful chaos from there, reminding Lucien of days long ago, sitting around a fire with these same people and feeling like he was home.

It was a bizarre thing, to sit amongst the people that Mollymauk had considered family and realize they still meant something to him.

The food was very good, just as Jester had promised, but Lucien was so full of conflicting emotions that it almost tasted like nothing in his mouth. He still chewed it dutifully, only realizing halfway through his plate that he hadn’t even thought to check anything for poison. 

Yasha leaned against him comfortably on his other side, seeming to revel in his closeness. He’d missed her, more than anything, and he found her presence comforting as well. He glanced at the faces around the fire, hesitant to break the spell of their reunion but needing to ask the question that continued to eat at him. 

“How long have you all been in Eiselcross?” he began. It was envisioned to be a lowball question, but clearly his intent was obvious because all of their eyes immediately darted to him.

“Not long,” Caleb said non-committedly, and Lucien found himself somewhat surprised that Caleb was acting as the unofficial spokesman of the group. So many things had changed. “We accompanied Vess DeRogna as bodyguards.”

Lucien glanced at the figure in manacles. She was clearly asleep now that he was close enough to take in details, not unconscious, and she moved her mouth as if speaking, although no words were audible. Someone had been smart enough to cast a Silence spell.

“And she betrayed you?” he asked.

“Is it betrayal if we saw it coming?” Beauregard drawled, stealing a piece of food that Yasha had been eyeing and earning herself a sad look. She leaned up and pressed a kiss against Yasha’s cheek in apology, and Lucien found himself fiercely glad that Yasha had found her, that she’d discovered her place amongst the Nein after he’d left her so rudely.

“It is a problem we will have to deal with,” Caleb said tightly. There was something there, beneath the surface, something connected to DeRogna and that past he’d kept locked up tightly. Presumably they all knew his secrets, now, since none of them batted an eyelash at his intensity. “But for now, we are here, and it is not against our own objectives.”

“What about you, Lucien?” Fjord asked in that strange, smooth accent that sounded so foreign to the Mollymauk inside Lucien’s head. “You must be here with Cree, with your other followers. Have you found what you’ve been seeking?”

“Not yet,” Lucien told him. “And you? Have you found anything…interesting?” Was he going to have to fight these people he loved in order to achieve his objective?

He glanced up and caught Caleb’s eyes on him. “We are unsure of what we’ve found,” Caleb said in a way that highly implied he wasn’t speaking of any ancient artifacts at all but Lucien himself. His stare captured Lucien’s own and held it.

Oh, ten months before it had been _him_ staring at _Caleb_ across fires. The contrast struck Lucien sharply, right in the solar plexus like he’d almost been physically hit. He found himself flustered by this new, confident Caleb, this person who saw through him, who didn’t trust him but still looked at him like _that_.

Caleb rose from his position across the circle and moved closer, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. The irony in that – that traumatized _Caleb_ would approach _Lucien_ so carefully – made Lucien laugh somewhat bitterly, drinking down the rest of his tea while he clutched at his coat with his free hand. Jester glanced up and saw Caleb’s approach. She smiled, pushed the rest of the tarot cards back in her bag, and jumped up from the rubble where she’d been seated next to Lucien, almost dancing over to Fjord and Nott.

Caleb seated himself in the space Jester had vacated, turning to stare at the fire rather than looking straight at him. “How are you holding up?” he asked, a note of humor in his voice despite the general heaviness of expression that always accompanied him.

“I’m fine,” Lucien lied. “Although I should be returning soon.”

“Ja,” Caleb agreed. “Your people will be looking for you.” A strand of red hair had fallen in front of Caleb’s face, and Lucien was startled by the powerful urge to reach over and tuck it behind his ear. It was ridiculous, that the feelings he’d fostered when he hadn’t even been himself had bled into his real life like this.

“What do you want?” Caleb asked suddenly, turning to look at him with all the intensity he usually mustered. It took all of Lucien’s power not to look away. “What are you seeking here, Lucien?”

Hearing his name in Caleb’s voice felt _wrong_. It was a visceral reaction, somewhere deep inside him. He was not Lucien to this man – he was supposed to be Mollymauk. The coat in his grasp felt like it was made of fly paper, his fingers glued to it as if it ensnared him.

Lucien intended to be coy, to lie, but the truth spilled from his lips unbidden. “I’ve been dreaming,” he said, “about a city. It has promised me power, the power to ascend. To become godlike.”

Caleb’s expression was almost impossible to read. The rest of the Nein had all gone quiet again and stared at him. Next to Lucien, Yasha had pulled away from where she’d leaned against him and turned towards him. Jester had stopped eating, and Fjord’s sword was in his hand, seemingly without him realizing it. The pink-haired cleric looked concerned.

“You’re trying to _ascend_?!” Beau exclaimed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“That’s such a cliché,” said Nott with a roll of her eyes. “You’re definitely not Molly, because Molly’s version of world domination would be much more creative.” Lucien felt a bit offended.

“Molly, I don’t think you should try to become a god,” Jester said. “We’ve seen what happens to false gods and it is NOT pretty.” There was something in her voice that suggested personal experience; what had his former friends been _up_ to while Mollymauk had been gone?

There was a part of him that wanted to stay with the Mighty Nein, more than anything else in the world. But he could already tell by the tightening of Caleb’s jaw, the way Beau’s hands were clenched into tense fists, the sad look in Jester’s eyes, and the empty stare of Yasha as she watched him, as if reliving old horrors – there was no way his old friends would let him achieve his goal.

“’Long may he reign,’” Caleb whispered under his breath, almost as though quoting something. “I thought at the time we were honoring you, but now I wonder if we damned you instead.”

Lucien gave him a smile that was all fang, knowing exactly the effect it would garner. He tried to project a confidence he didn’t quite feel. “I think perhaps you all believe that this is a task you need to interfere with, that you’re meant to stop me,” he said, sure to make sure his accent was the polished cadence of his youth instead of Mollymauk’s lilt. “But my goals have nothing to do with you.”

They all exchanged glances – clearly there was something they weren’t telling him. They’d barely batted an eyelash at the mention of the city, which suggested they were already familiar with it, and there was definitely more to their presence in Eiselcross than hired mercenary work for the much-hated Empire. 

Yasha pulled herself to her feet. “You should be getting back,” she said gently, but with a slight hint of steel behind her words.

Lucien had extensive practice reading Yasha’s moods as Mollymauk, and it broke his heart almost as much as it was breaking hers that he couldn’t be the friend she’d lost. He could at least give her what he had and leave her, leave all of them, to mourn their loss once again. He pulled himself to his feet as well, taking the hint, and handed Caleb his half-finished plate and his empty cup of tea. Their fingers brushed as Caleb took the dishware from him. Nobody commented on the fact that Lucien continued to clutch at the coat as though it were a lifeline.

“Will you accompany me, reassure my Tombtakers that you mean us no harm?” Lucien asked Yasha. It was possible she wanted him completely gone, but it was also possible she just was having difficulty with the vision of him among the rest of them with the face of an old friend and the heart of a stranger.

“Do we mean you no harm?” Yasha asked. She gave him a slight smile, and the Mollymauk in Lucien’s head knew immediately it was meant as a joke.

He turned to glance over the rest, feeling his heart ache at the sight of them all before him. “I know you’re not happy with my objective,” he said, “but when I’ve achieved my goals, I will make sure none of you suffer, ever again.”

The group exchanged those unreadable glances once more. “You are making a lot of assumptions about godhood,” Caleb said at last. “I think it will not be as easy to ascend as you believe, my friend.”

Lucien laughed. “If it was easy,” he replied with a wink directly out of Mollymauk’s playbook, “what would be the point in trying?” He gave a small wave to them all. “It was good to see you.”

Jester dashed up and folded him up into a bear hug, almost damaging him with the amount of strength behind it. “We missed you,” she whispered into Lucien’s hair. “I know you’re not Molly, but it feels like you are.”

Lucien pulled away just enough to cup her cheek and wipe away a few tears. “I missed you, too,” he said in Mollymauk’s accent. “And I’m still right here.”

Jester smiled sadly at him and pulled away. “I know,” she said.

As she went back to where she was sitting, Beauregard took her place, reaching out and punching Lucien on the bicep. Her punch was definitely hard enough to cause actual damage, and Lucien rubbed the spot tenderly, frowning at her. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, staring him down. “I don’t want to have to stop you.”

“I never do anything stupid,” Lucien replied.

“Everything you do is stupid,” Beau countered, and Lucien felt a wave of nostalgia so strong that he closed his eyes against it. He was not going to do something stupid like hug Beauregard, but he _wanted_ to, and that was almost worse.

When he turned back to Yasha, he was surprised to see Fjord standing with her.

“I’m going back with you as well,” Fjord said in that accent that Lucien’s inner Mollymauk found so disconcerting. “We’ll need someone to negotiate with your people.”

“Of course,” Lucien said. He took a step away and a hand caught his wrist, pulling him back to look directly at Caleb.

Caleb regarded him for a long moment. “I know you think you are doing what is right,” he said, that same uncanny confidence behind his words. “But I also think you will realize, someday, that you have made a terrible mistake. When you do, we will be there to catch you.” He leaned over, mimicking a moment in a mineshaft long ago, and pressed his lips directly to the center of Lucien’s forehead. Lucien’s breath caught in his throat.

He had to get out of there.

“I hardly think I’ll need to be caught,” he replied smoothly, trying not to betray how conflicted his emotions were. “But if someone has to catch me, I’d rather it be you.” He gave Caleb a wink before stepping away. He quickly brushed past Fjord and Yasha. “Follow me. Our encampment is this way.”

It was a relief, when that warm, happy camp was finally out of sight and they walked among the ruins once more. Fjord and Yasha followed him silently, these two members of the Nein who he had been closest to, and Lucien found comfort in their presence. Yasha clearly yearned to say something, but just as clearly didn’t know what exactly that something was. Fjord, usually far more talkative, seemed to have decided to wait and keep an eye on the situation, a surprisingly astute plan for someone who Mollymauk remembered as being impulsive to a ridiculous degree. Maybe this new serenity had something to do with the holy symbol hanging from his belt.

“A paladin?” Lucien finally asked as they stepped over a particularly large piece of rubble, pointing at the symbol.

“Of the Wildmother,” Fjord confirmed. “A lot has changed since you left us.”

“I hope that means you’re no longer waking from nightmares and puking seawater,” Lucien said. “You were a disconcerting roommate.”

“Thankfully, that has stopped,” Fjord said with a smile. “And _you_ were a _terrible_ roommate.”

“I was,” Lucien said in Mollymauk’s voice, almost too cheerfully, trying to hide the deep feeling of loss welling up inside him. “I’m glad you found the Wildmother,” he added, and found to his annoyance that the earnest words were true.

If things had changed for the Mighty Nein, a lot had changed for Lucien as well – he had memories now, a history, a context to which his existence mattered. He no longer drifted as a man out of space and time, after amnesia had wiped his essence from the world and left a blank slate. But the pieces of Mollymauk who had created their own order out of chaos were still there inside him, leaving him changed and transformed, a man who had once sought only order who now added sprigs of color to his utilitarian clothing and dreamed of wearing a cacophonous coat. 

He wasn’t truly Lucien, any more than he was Mollymauk – not anymore. He’d been able to ignore it until he’d had the Nein in front of him, but once faced with them, it brought into sharp clarity a truth he’d known in his heart the moment he’d awoken in that grave.

Their small group finally reached the Tombtakers’ camp, and immediately a cry went up as the guards recognized him. Cree emerged from the main tent at a run, stopping in front of them with the slightly dilated pupils that meant she was under a considerable amount of stress. “Lucien!” she exclaimed. “We thought the Empire mages had taken you.”

“As you can see, I am unharmed,” Lucien told her, nodding at Fjord and Yasha. “I believe you will remember my companions from our time in Zadash.” The majority of the Tombtakers had no knowledge of Mollymauk Tealeaf, and Lucien planned to keep it that way. “They will stay out of our way, and they returned with me as a gesture of good faith.”

Cree looked less than convinced, but part of her value as a second-in-command was how quickly she responded to orders she didn’t like. “Of course,” she said, nodding to Fjord and Yasha. “Why don’t you join us and we’ll discuss this further.”

Fjord and Yasha followed her to sit by a nearly identical fire to the one they’d just left, surrounded by a different group of mercenaries. Lucien looked on, his thoughts in turmoil. 

Since he’d awoken, everything had seemed so simple – complete his quest, find the city, achieve the godhood he’d craved. Subverting the order of heaven and earth had been his greatest goal since childhood. 

Now, everything had changed. 

He was hardly a man with precognitive abilities, but he couldn’t shake the thought that the Nein were involved with the city, that they knew more than they’d told him. He couldn’t shake the thought that they were going to meet across a battlefield, someday in the future.

As Lucien watched Yasha and Fjord’s faces in the firelight, speaking with Cree and the rest of his people, he took a sip of wine and wondered, for the first time, if the price of godhood was a bit too steep.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://the-kaedageist.tumblr.com/) for more Critical Role!


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